As Time Goes By
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: A glimpse into the future and Booth and Brennan grow old together.
1. Chapter 1

As Time Goes By

 **A/N: For those of you wondering why a 'complete' story is being continued, I received a review from JSBonesLover, who doesn't have a profile where I can thank her, but who leaves the most wonderful comments after reading. She was upset at the abrupt nature of Brennan's demise, and the dark nature of this story. Having read this review just before leaving for church Sunday morning, I didn't get much benefit out of the service. My brain was mulling her over comments rather than the divine. So I decided to rectify the suddenness of Brennan's earthly departure, and lengthen this story. I hope the result is more satisfactory. And thank you to all the non-profile readers who are kind enough to leave reviews. I appreciate all your comments and try to take them to heart. This whole story resulted from my hearing a radio discussion about the Hispanic tradition of** **Día de Muertos (** **Day of the Dead) the night before Halloween. Odd, I know.**

Chapter 1

Despite the passage of time, and her ancient theories and worries about the fickle nature of love, Brennan's and Booth's love for one another had never wavered nor weakened. Neither had their attraction to one another, for that matter. And their close friendships with Angela and Hodgins were just as important a part of their lives as ever. Their characteristics and personalities had remained constant as well. Angela still enjoyed commenting on attractive men walking by the window when she and Brennan met for lunch, and she still urged her best friend to 'dish' on her latest romantic adventures with one handsome FBI agent, now retired. And, as always, Brennan still demurred, holding true to Booth's admonition that 'What's ours, is ours; just ours, Bones."

The pair had achieved their 'thirty or forty years', having currently been married almost forty-three years. Whether they would reach the fifty-year mark of marriage together was an unknown at this point. Both partners were still healthy for their respective ages, and they took walks together each evening to stay active and as flexible as possible. This was important, because they still shared a spark for each other, and demonstrated their mutual affection whenever the chance presented itself. As Parker, Christine, and Zach matured, they had been embarrassed by their parents 'making out' in front of their friends, as they called it, groaning "M-oooo-m; D-aaaa-d, geez!" Until. Each of them was brought up short by a friend wistfully pointing out that he or she thought it was cute, that their own parents barely looked at each other, or were bitterly divorced, that the Booth kids were lucky to have parents who were still madly in love with one another.

Behind closed doors, in the privacy of their bedroom, the pair had gradually found that a few adjustments were necessary to continue breaking the laws of physics. An extra pillow here, a folded towel there made it possible for the partners to demonstrate their mutual adoration; as they always had and ever would until death came for one or the other.

Booth still knew every curve of her torso. She still cherished every inch of his strong solid chest. The fact that the curves sagged slightly and the muscular expanses had withered a little with age meant nothing to this pair. They were so closely connected, so much in tune that Booth had told her they shared the same molecules. She, of course, had smiled fondly at him, shaking her head at his scientific inaccuracy, knowing it was intentional; a unique declaration of his abiding love.

This utopia might have continued forever had it not been for a particularly frigid burst of weather hitting DC in late January. Brennan had driven to the whole foods market, making her weekly grocery run while Booth had coffee with Hank Lutrell, the retired judge and old Army friend he'd known since Kosovo. When his smart phone buzzed, he pulled it from his pocket with his left hand, while taking a drink from the coffee mug in his right.

"Booth."

"Mr. Booth, this is Officer Simpkins, Rockville PD. There's been an accident—"

The coffee mug landed hard on the formica-topped table with a thunk.

"Yes?" Booth said, a sharp edge to his voice that made Hank look over at him with concern.

"Sir, your wife has been involved in a collision. The streets around here have gotten icy rather suddenly and another driver slid into her Prius. She's being taken to GW by ambulance."

"Is she badly hurt or are they just checking her out?"

"Mr. Booth, I'm not an EMT, I can't comment on her condition. I do know that both drivers were injured. I'm sorry I don't know to what extent-"

"And you couldn't tell me if you did. I'm aware of the regulations, Officer, I'm retired FBI. Thank you for informing me; I'll meet you there," Booth responded tersely. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, it's just that—"

"No need to apologize, I'd be the same if it was my family, sir," the officer assured him. "Do you have someone who drive you or come with you? Road conditions are deteriorating quickly and we don't need you getting hurt too."

"Yes, I can get there okay. Thank you for calling, Officer." He wiped his hand across his eyes.

As Booth disconnected the call, Hank Lutrell spoke up. "Who can I call for you, Booth? You don't need me slowing you down with my wheelchair."

"No one for now, thanks, Hank. I'll page Zach when I get to the hospital. No need to worry Christine or Parker til I know her condition—" his voice faltered into a choked sob. "God, I should've checked the weather before she left this morning. The streets were dry earlier; I thought this front wasn't expected til later in the day." Booth rose from his chair abruptly.

"Booth, this isn't your fault," Hank said quietly, squeezing his friend's hand as he stood. "Take it easy, and go to her- in one piece."

"I know, but what if it's serious? What if-?" he couldn't continue.

"Call me when you know something, Booth. I'll pray for her and so will Jenny."

"Thanks, man."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Booth drove the familiar route to the hospital on auto-pilot, thinking how many times he or she had made this trip, worried sick about the other. Wishing he still had a siren to speed his way, he pulled into the first spot he saw and strode into the trauma center. Instinctively reaching for the badge that had rested in his breast pocket for so many years, Booth grimaced realizing he'd have to muster some patience like 'regular people' and knowing that Brennan wouldn't have let retirement stop her from demanding an immediate update on his condition if the situation was reversed.

"My wife Temperance Brennan was brought in by ambulance from an accident. Can you tell me her condition?" he asked the information desk clerk.

"Have a seat, please, sir, and let me check; Brennan, you said?"

Booth sank into the nearest chair, and pulled out his phone. Entering the familiar number, he left a message for his younger son. Then he called Parker's and Christine's phones and repeated his sad message, knowing all three would be in touch as soon as they could.

Then, there was nothing to do but wait, and pray. Hard.

Fortunately, Zach was not in surgery, and returned the page within a half hour. He assured his father he'd call the physician treating his mother, and be on his way to the medical center as soon as he could.

Before long, Parker and Christine had called back, and joined their dad's anxious vigil. Everyone in their offices knew who their parents were, and took over their work for the day, pushing the anthropologist and the FBI agent out the door and to the hospital.

The news wasn't good. The front of Brennan's car was demolished back to the firewall, and despite its air bags, she had sustained severe neck and head trauma. The medical team would try their best but there were no promises. The only mercy was that she'd been knocked unconscious so quickly, she most likely had felt no pain.

As a result of Booth and Brennan's past hospitalizations when hurt in the line of duty, the trauma and surgery staff knew the partners well. She had gained a degree of notoriety within the DC medical community when Booth suffered a gunshot wound to the head in Afghanistan and his skull shattered during surgery to retrieve the bullet. Brennan had calmly asked for surgical glue and a sterile tray, reassembled the fragments and glued the piece back into place on Booth's skull. The OR video record of her work had been used in medical schools ever since. Those familiar with her skills were not surprised by the achievement as news of Booth's successful recovery spread back in the States.

Dr. Jursik had retired, but his son had followed him into neurosurgery and Zach called him requesting help for his mother. Joint ER/Surgical consults were held to determine an appropriate course of treatment to mitigate the physical damage from the collision. Familiar with his dad's removal of Booth's brain tumor, the junior Dr. Jursik quietly called his father for advice.

Brennan had suffered a calamitous concussion, and a craniectomy was performed to relieve the resulting elevated intracranial pressure before any further surgical intervention could be undertaken. She was moved to the ICU, and her family waited for the outcome. Christine was distraught, but the pressure on her brothers was worse. Having followed his beloved 'Dr. Bones' into forensic anthropology, Parker was painfully aware of the horrific effects of blunt force trauma injuries to the brain. As a surgeon, Zach knew all too well everything that could go wrong under these dire circumstances.

Throughout a week of waiting and daily brain scans, Booth rarely left Brennan's bedside. He was in excellent health for a man of 83, and would not have budged from his chair if left to his own devices. But he was no longer alone in his love and concern for Brennan. His children, grandchildren and friends, brought him coffee, took him to eat, and forcibly escorted him home to sleep with assurances that Brennan would have company at all times. He would have preferred dozing on a cot in her room but acquiesced grudgingly. Hearing her fuss at him inside his head, he realized he'd only make matters worse if he fell ill as well. Realizing now what she had gone through during his coma all those years ago, he'd carried on a silent conversation with her ever since the accident, and felt her worry for their children. They knew each other so well, he could hear her opinions, observations, and comments bubbling around in his heart and soul, and it comforted him in an inexplicable way.

Brennan's magnificent brain showed no signs of activity, and after agonized consultations, Zach and her doctors came into the room. One glance at their faces told Booth all he needed to know. Dr. Jursik, Jr. explained their findings in detail, and answered all the questions Booth, Christine, and Parker could ask. Eventually, the decision was made to remove her from the ventilator, as Booth knew her wishes for the situation. She surprised them, however, continuing to breathe on her own for six days. Watching her chest rise and fall, Booth knew she was easing the end for them all. She had dealt with life's highs and lows with fortitude, and unconscious or not, she handled its final challenge on her own terms. Booth wished he could gaze into her blue eyes one more time. He had always likened them to the ocean, with ever-altering hues as her moods changed. Temperance Brennan slipped away like the ebb tide, her breaths becoming steadily shallower until a stillness like 'slack water' occurred and her life flickered out.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Booth was resigned but inconsolable. His only comfort was that he'd been able to keep his promise to her, and never leave her side. He wasn't the first to go. His faith assured him of their forever together, but did nothing to ease the loneliness right now. He went through the motions of life for the sake of his family, but they knew he was only pretending. His mind had gone on with her. He quit eating, having no taste for food. At first he only slept when exhaustion overcame his turbulent thoughts. But gradually, his dreams of Brennan soothed his anger over her needless loss.

A weaker man might have succumbed to the comfort of the bottle, anti-depressants or death, but Booth wasn't just anyone. He remembered what Pops had said about never getting over Grams' death. And yet his grandfather had lived another thirty five years after losing Margaret to cancer. Booth felt his Bones very close; in his heart. His mouth quirked up in a slight smile, hearing her insistence that such a thing was scientifically impossible. He assured her, inside his head, that yes, it was quite possible, and there she would stay until he was allowed to join her. "See, Bones, I told you life went on after death!" he chuckled silently, imagining her sputtering in return.

Remembering Brennan's amending her will from 312 pages to "only 306, Booth," the patriarch informed his brood of their mother and grandmother's unique final wishes to be scattered into a volcano. They were grateful she'd decided against the Tibetan sky burial, which sounded much more peaceful than it actually was when Booth described the details.

Brennan's continuing book royalties provided plenty of travel funds, and the entire family flew to Hawaii. Laughing over memories of their indomitable mother's wonderful individuality, Booth and his three children boarded a helicopter to scatter her ashes as Brennan had directed. Since she hadn't specified which volcano she wanted for her final resting place, Booth had chosen East Moloka'i. It includes the highest sea cliffs on earth, and the island has the United States' longest fringing reef. Brennan had supported numerous charities during her lifetime and Booth thought her generous spirit matched that of Father Damien who had helped care for lepers on the island. His choice was arbitrary, but he had no idea what her preferences might have been. She'd wanted an active volcano, but for safety during their landing, that seemed out of the question.

Booth had reserved a small portion of her ashes for eventual interment with him. He'd debated with himself about doing this, but finally decided she'd understand his need to have her close for eternity, and wondered wryly if she was still arguing with the Universe about the absurdity of believing in hereafter. The four of them, he and their children, each took a turn scattering their mother's remains into the crater to strains of 'Hot Blooded' from Parker's cell phone. And then they re-boarded the helicopter, flew back to Maui for a week of leisure with the grandchildren, Angela, Hodgins, Cam, and Daisy.

And upon their return, the year passed without her physical presence. Mother's Day, her birthday, the empty recliner across from his; were painful reminders. By the following Christmas, his favorite time of year, Booth was sleeping a bit better. He and the grandkids purchased the thickest tree they could fit through the door, set it up in the front window, and Parker brought down ornament cartons from the attic, each neatly labelled in her precise script. Surrounded by their family, Booth worked and watched and smiled as the tree was decorated amid squabbles about to where Gramma would want each decoration hung, and mugs of peppermint cocoa. On Christmas Eve, they opened holiday pajamas, just as she had done with Max and Russ and her mom. Angela and Hodgins, Daisy and Cam, Wendell and Clark, came on Christmas with their offspring. Brennan was sorely missed, but never gone from their midst, her fondly remembered protestations about 'the myths of the afterlife' notwithstanding. Comforted by his children, grandchildren, and unorthodox family, Booth felt a small measure of peace. The center still held.

 **Postscript A/N: I don't have an eidetic memory like Brennan. I think I borrowed the gluing Booth's skull back together from Ceeray3's Two Peas in a Bucket, but I don't have an index of story details in my head. Another writer used the 'Hot Blooded' song first when they scattered the ashes and had Booth holding some of his Bones ashes in a little box, but again, I can't recall which one. I'm hereby apologizing to any writer whose work I unwittingly used without proper citation. Please consider yourself thanked and alert me to what story I forgot so I can credit you properly. That way I can enjoy reading your story again too. :)**


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